


A Lesson in Attachment

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, But really it's just to sow confusion, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Halfhearted Attempt at Seduction to the Dark Side, M/M, and for the fun of it, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: "There aren't many Jedi left, are there? For those who know what to look for, you are impossible to mistake, dear boy."He wasn't an Inquisitor. He wasn't Vader. Were there more Yoda and Ben hadn't known about? Given what they'd kept from him about his parentage, what else had they concealed?"I'm not a Jedi," he said truthfully. He'd abandoned the training. "I don't know what a Jedi should be."





	A Lesson in Attachment

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write Palpakin, and ended up with this.
> 
> Unbetaed. Probably ooc. I'm so sorry this exists.

Luke did not want to be here. Well, no. He wanted to be _somewhere_. They hadn't found any time to pursue the bounty hunter that had taken Han, but this was the sort of place bounty hunters picked up tips, and "it's our best shot without having to get formal approval, since we need someone to go there anyway," Leia had said over a cup of cold caf as they ate a quick breakfast together and looked over a confusing mash of data she'd received from a source (the exact nature of the source, she didn't quite explain).

So here he was, in a bar attached to a spice den in Coront City, though you couldn't tell from the outside. The rich and the destitute alike seemed to mingle here, and anonymity was the standard. Almost everyone Luke saw was wearing a hood or a mask or some subtler disguise.

He even caught a slight...but no. There were no other Force sensitives here.

Right?

He ordered a shot of the house brandy. ("Good choice kid!" the bartender said with a wink, "'specially for an Offworlder. Hope you can take it."), not because he was particularly fond of the stuff, but because Han would have ordered it. And then ordered Luke a shot and slapped him on the back when he choked it down.

"Bit strong, I'd say," someone said close to his ear.

Luke glanced around. The man was probably human, he could tell that much, but other than that...

"What's it to you what I drink?" He could hardly hear himself over the din of a nerf fight in progress in the basement—illegal as they come, but people paid well. The screeches and grunts made his teeth ache in sympathy. He wanted to break it up... But no. That would draw too much attention and get him tossed out…

A hand was waving in front of his face. Rude. He blinked at it. Noticing he'd gotten Luke's attention properly, the man pulled out the stool beside him and took a seat. "I don't care. Why should I? You look lonely, is all."

He wasn't wrong, was he? Luke glared at his neighbor again, and still couldn't tell a damn thing about him. And looking at him made Luke aware of something in the Force that was...off. But there were no other Force sensitives here.

"Corellian brandy is exceptionally strong. You could do better, if you're in need of a good time." He steepled his fingers. There wasn't anything in front of him except a half-empty glass of water. "Cordials of one kind or another, for example. Or a nice wine."

"You offering to buy me a drink?" Luke felt unusually bold.

His neighbor winked, then waved a Twi'lek bartender over with a gracious gesture, far more than the situation warranted. They came over, pale green tentacles waving, their steps brisk. "What'll it be?"

"Anything—" Luke's companion paused, then smiled. "—Anything Alderaanian in stock?"

"A bit, but it's pricey. No more of it coming, you know, not since..." They shivered.

Luke was pretty sure they'd just received a generous tip under the table, for they stopped speaking and hurried off to the bar. They returned a moment later with a dark bottle of some sort of wine, which they uncorked with a loud pop and a wide arc of the wrist. Show-off, Luke thought.

They poured the wine into two stemless glasses, then marched off, leaving Luke and his companion alone. "To peace?" the man asked, lifting his glass.

"Er." Luke grimaced. "Freedom, maybe?"

"Suit yourself. Cheers." They clinked glasses and drank. It was sweet, but with far more robustness than Luke had expected, though he'd hardly ever tasted wine before. Tatooine's alcohol was nothing special and particularly harsh (the brandy had nothing on it),, and most people never bothered because of the price.

He wondered if Leia had ever drunk this, if she liked it.

"What brings you here, then?" The man tilted his head and smiled, and even looking directly at him, Luke couldn't remember anything about his face. Blue eyes, he guessed, but no they were more like—

Blue. They had to be blue, if they existed at all. He let his gaze drift. "Trying to find a lead on someone. Usual business here, isn't it?"

"Quite."

"You?" He'd bought Luke a drink. What did he want?

"Oh, going here and there. Seeing what there is to see. It's all rather uninspiring." He leaned forward, one of his hands upturned in some sort of invitation. Luke couldn't look at his hand without the same sort of confusion, but he thought it might be oddly small and slender-fingered.

He didn't take it. He wasn't really sure why he would...

"Drink up. The wine won't age any more now that it's met the open air, hmm?"

Now _that_ Luke could do, gladly. Something in the back of his mind screeched a warning, some other sense not quite the Force—maybe the Force—that he shouldn't get drunk, but he didn't plan to. This was just to unwind. Not a big deal.

The warmth spread through him quickly, and he sighed and relaxed a bit. The confusion looking at his companion caused eased as the wine took effect—on top of the brandy he'd had already—and he was rather nice to look at. Yes, blue eyes. Finely-shaped eyebrows. Smile lines around the mouth. No taller than Luke himself, he guessed. Which was nothing to complain about.

"And what have you seen?" Luke asked, managing a smile of his own.

"Many things, but nothing I didn't expect. The galaxy is a wondrous place, isn't it? Life in so many forms, innumerable beings, all connected by the same force, a grand design to be... Ah, but I've said too much."

"To be what?" Luke was definitely interested now. He'd never heard anyone speak this way before. Well, maybe Ben, except that Ben was rarely so expansive.

"To be urged to become their best possible selves. Truly, have they taught you nothing?"

Interested, and also afraid. "Who?"

His finger went to his lips. "Careful. The empire has ears everywhere. You wouldn't want to draw their attention, especially here."

Luke repeated his question, more quietly, heart in his throat. He took another sip of wine to steady himself.

"There aren't many Jedi left, are there? For those who know what to look for, you are impossible to mistake, dear boy."

He wasn't an Inquisitor. He wasn't Vader. Were there more Yoda and Ben hadn't known about? Given what they'd kept from him about his parentage, what else had they concealed?

"I'm not a Jedi," he said truthfully. He'd abandoned the training. "I don't know what a Jedi should be."

He looked at Luke almost pityingly. "The Jedi lost their way, some say, those who dare speak of them. Too dogmatic, too concerned with their own purity that they overlooked their own decay from within. But it was no fault of theirs. They didn't know any better."

Luke shivered. "But what else is there, besides the Jedi—"

"The Force, boy."

"Just the Force?"

"Do you believe the Jedi made the Force? No, they only claimed to serve it. And yet they cut themselves off from its greatest mysteries by denying themselves, by bottling up their passions."

Luke shook his head. "I don't want to go to the Dark Side, either. I don't want to end up like—" _Vader_, he didn't say.

"I doubt you could, truly. You remind me far more of your mother." 

Luke was sure he’d misheard.

The man wasn’t looking directly at Luke, and Luke could almost catch the edge of his expression. Was that…wistfulness? Luke shifted back, far from his companion as he could get, but then the expression was gone. Who was this man?

A dance had started, the music rising to an intolerable volume. "There are rooms in the back, if you would like to continue this conversation."

Luke had to know who this was, for he fascinated him, despite his misgivings. So Luke assented, and they left their empty glasses to skirt around the line of dancers—of every race Luke knew, and many he didn't—and entered a narrow doorway in one of the many corners. The noise cut off entirely as the door obligingly closed itself behind them.

"Wonderful." The man threw his hood back, but even this told Luke nothing. He looked like any number of older human males, distinguished in a Core way, maybe. Definitely far from a backwater like Tatooine. "There is one thing above all the Jedi deny to their great peril, for they cannot find any sort of true connection with other beings. Although..." He considered Luke a moment, eyebrow raised.

"You don't mean sex, do you?" Luke blushed. "B— I mean the— I mean they don't seem very into that sort of thing." He'd wondered once , since he and Biggs had sort of tried—it had been messy and kind of terrible—but had never asked Ben about it. 'No attachments' didn't seem very forgiving.

"I'm sure I can guess what you're thinking. Think of it as a...lesson in attachment. No harm done. We'll go our separate ways, and you will have gained something invaluable."

Luke's eyes were drawn back to his hands as they traced the stitching about his sleeves. He wondered if they were as adept, gentle, as they looked.

"Hell, show me, then."

What followed, Luke could only conclude later, was the best sex he would ever have. Han would probably tell him it wasn't sex, since nothing properly went in anywhere, but Luke didn't mind that.

"What should I call you?" Luke asked, as his companion patiently helped him out of his boots and jumpsuit (leftover casual clothes in the Coruscanti underclass style, he'd been told), and then threw his own cloak aside. Luke did not recognize the style he wore.

"What should you call me? Clever boy, I should ask the same of you."

_You seem to know who I am already_, Luke thought wearily. "Lars," he said anyway. Common name.

"And you may call me Veruna."

"That's a bit of a mouthful." But it suited him, kinda. The Force said it was just as much of a lie as Luke's name was. But then, he felt like this man's face was a lie, too.

They met in the middle of the room, Veruna's hand already slick with oil, and Luke was instantly, painfully hard at his first touch. It was more than the Force, now, something primal and very much his own.

When Luke came, embarrassingly quickly after just a few strokes ("Oh, to be as young as you"), Veruna turned him around, his mouth against Luke's neck, whispering, "and have you learned anything?"

"I think there's more," Luke muttered, amazed.

"How so?" The Force was strung between them, a warmth even greater than the fire of Luke's blood, a wholly greater demand. Luke backed against Veruna, feeling his own erection and wondering why he didn't—

"The teacher must reserve something."

"But why?" Luke let his shoddy attempt at shielding drop completely—he couldn't keep it up anyway. He dearly wished he had.

The Force was hungry, This man was a shadow within it, lurking at the corners of Luke's mind, his absence unmistakable, like a yawning void..

His hand trailed through Luke's hair, and Luke was sure it was with (terrifying) fondness... or something like it. But he could not truly feel him in the Force or see his expression from his current position.

"You look so much like your father did."

Luke's heart thudded in his ears. "How do you know?" Ben had never said such things. Owen had once, but it was never meant in a good way. Always "you look like your father, and you'll end up as dead as he is if you're not careful". Uncle Owen had always done it out of concern for Luke (he was sure of that, and maybe it was Force or just intuition, and oh Owen and Beru are dead, and Luke and his father were not).

“He was quite well-known.”

"Wait," Luke said, bleary, realizing suddenly the precariousness of his position. Here was a shadow in the Force, who knew who he was, who knew his father (and his mother). What could that mean?

"Calm yourself, dear boy. I mean you no harm." _For now_, Luke added, because there was something—

"Come, stop thinking such distressing thoughts." So Luke turned around, and they were face-to-face, their cocks rubbing together.

When Veruna came (and he was quiet when he did, almost polite about it), the Force howled, and Luke saw, for a moment—

Yellow eyes, an old man shriveled by Force only knew what.

Luke felt nothing but bitter Dark, reaching out, starving for something it could not have...

And then he was the distinguished, blue-eyed gentleman once more, and Luke's eyes, thoughts itched again. It was easy to forget everything he'd just felt. The local liquor and Alderaanian wine did their job.

Luke got the refurbished X-wings he’d been sent to acquire, passed along by their contact. Luke, though, couldn't remember meeting their contact. Small mercies. Terrible, terrible implications.

He never dared tell anyone.

*

In the throne room on the second Death Star when Luke was dragged in, he saw—felt—him. "No," he said, hands shaking. "No, how?"

Vader moved to stand at the Emperor's side.

(Palpatine, then, not Veruna.)

_It is unfortunate indeed that it must be this way. I rather enjoyed our time together, Luke Skywalker._ The Emperor's expression gave nothing away. Luke wondered idly, his heart in his throat, horror paralyzing him momentarily, what Vader would have done if he knew.

But it didn't really matter, because Luke's ran at the Emperor in rage and betrayal (he shouldn't feel that, but it had been such a strange sort of night and—), and he was writhing on the floor and—

It was over quickly. The Emperor was dead, Vader was dying, and Luke felt nothing but resignation. And grief. And a hundred other things that neither Vader nor the Emperor deserved.

"What's wrong, Luke?" Leia asked later, after the celebration, after he'd seen Anakin Skywalker's Force ghost and understood that _one_ of them may have deserved such sentiments.

"Nothing," Luke hedged. "Just happy it's all over."

He wished, in his heart of hearts sometimes, that it weren't, that there could have been more.

"Me, too," Leia said fervently. "There's so much work to do."


End file.
